


Tribulations

by taralynden



Series: Story of a lifetime [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Promotion to the role of Chief Tactical Officer came with a new set of challenges for Prowl</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tribulations

**Author's Note:**

> Done as a request for NineCrow who wanted more detail on Prowl being poisoned. Set between Part 6 & Part 7

_Orn 1_

Prowl stepped into the office of the Second in Command and closed the door behind himself to stop the nosy juniors overhearing what he was about to request, then looked back towards the desk as Tripwire spoke.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need the access rights to the Tactical Office of all Quickquadrant's staff revoked immediately."

Tripwire stared at him blankly.

"Say again?"

"I need you to revoke access to the Tactical Office for all of Quickquadrant's staff."

"Why?"

"They decline to continue with their assigned roles."

Tripwire gaped.

"Are you saying they've defected? All of them?"

"No they have not defected. They requested reassignment."

"Well they can't have it! Primus, Prowl, you've been in this role less than an orn, what the frag did you do to them?"

Prowl stiffened.

"I greatly resent your accusation that I have caused this to happen. They announced their intentions when I arrived at the start of the shift. They have resigned from their posts."

"What do you mean resigned? They can't do that!"

"They refuse to work with me."

"This isn't a slagging civvie job, it's an _army_." Tripwire growled. "They'll do what they're slagging well told or I'll throw them all in the brig until they see sense!"

Prowl shook his head.

"They're already in the brig but given the problems we already have with leaks I would rather find staff more inclined to be loyal."

Tripwire ignored him, shoving back from his desk and striding out.

"I'll get to the bottom of this. Don't you worry."

"I wasn't." Prowl told the now empty office, then sighed and headed out.

This was not exactly how he had planned his first shift in the senior role would play out. It made him wonder what would happen next.

* * *

_Orn 3_

It was taking time to sort things out and to find new staff, but in the meantime there was plenty for him to work on. He was determined to re-work every single upcoming action to identify and eliminate any of the planned collateral damage. Mecha died in battle, that was inevitable, but it need not be planned to happen.

Locking his office behind himself after another long shift Prowl had a moment to notice how quiet and empty the corridor was before being slammed unexpectedly into a wall.

"Murderer!" someone screamed in his audial, punching him.

Twisting away, Prowl tried to put some space between himself and his attacker but the other mech was in a frenzy, attacking wildly.

"You killed him! You killed him! I know you did! Why did you do it?"

Grabbing blindly Prowl managed to catch one hand and hold it still, making the mech pause long enough for Prowl to register who it was.

"Rallypoint?"

Quickquadrant's lieutenant, who had been off-ship for the past three decaorns. Not a strategist himself, but an administrator who organised the rest of the staff so that Quickquadrant could focus on planning. The one mech Prowl had hoped to be able to encourage to stay on.

Apparently that was unlikely.

"We _needed_ him, he was our only chance against the Decepticons! And you killed him!"

"He killed himself." Prowl choked on the words.

"Liar!" Rallypoint roared, breaking free of Prowl's hold and pulling out a rifle.

Prowl did some quick calculations. At this range there was no space to dodge, but if he moved at the right moment he might be able to change a fatal wound into merely a very painful injury. He had to try. Yet before he could do anything, there was a yell from the end of the corridor and the scream of an engine and a red blur. And suddenly Rallypoint was knocked off his pedes and halfway down the hall.

Feeling unsteady in his relief, Prowl reached out a hand to steady himself against the wall and watched as Sideswipe expertly wrestled Rallypoint into immobility. Moments later a security team arrived, Tripwire striding along behind them.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Fortunate that Sideswipe was nearby."

"Looks like it. Well don't worry about it now - we've got him."

"But the accusations he's making..."

"Are worthless." Tripwire shrugged. "The mech's insane, anyone can see that. Like I said, don't worry about it. You won't be seeing him again."

* * *

_Orn 5_

With a new staff finally cobbled together from other sections of the _Escaphalion_ 's crew, he decided that he could at least start sorting out what work was underway and set his eight assistants to gathering up and sorting the files, flimsies and datapads they found.

Two joors in to the task, one of the juniors went to the rec room and retrieved rations for everyone; a thoughtful move Prowl considered approvingly as he drank his own.

Three breems later, he did not feel so charitable towards the mech as he lay on a berth in the medbay with his tank being pumped empty of the tainted energon.

"I swear it wasn't my fault!" Trueline babbled pleadingly. "I just got energon for you like everyone else!"

"But conveniently no-one else got poisoned." Tripwire pointed out, gesturing for a security guard to wrap binders around the mech's wrists.

"But why would I want to hurt him? Why would anyone?"

"Well that's something we can talk about, isn't it?" Tripwire said conversationally.

Prowl listened as Trueline was escorted out of the room. It did occur to him that it didn't make sense for someone to poison him with something so quick acting that they would still be present when he was affected. Something so quick acting that he only consumed the first mouthful before feeling the effects. It was clumsy and probably indicated that Trueline was being framed. He should talk to Tripwire about that...

His thoughts were disrupted by a sudden drop in energy in his systems and he dropped offline.

* * *

"You're probably right." Tripwire agreed when Prowl finally had a chance to put across his theory late that night. "One thing is certain - he was innocent."

"But you still sent him away."

"Appearances." Tripwire shrugged. "Too many witnesses and not enough evidence to put the blame on anyone else. We can't just ignore an open attack on a senior officer. Meantime, you just need to be careful what you consume until we catch the one who's really responsible."

"I will be." Prowl agreed. "The medics have added to my diagnostic suite and I will retrieve all of my energon personally."

* * *

_Orn 9_

"So explain to me what you're doing back in here." Tripwire suggested conversationally, approaching the medberth.

Prowl shook his head tiredly.

"I wish I could. I have retrieved my own rations, I do not understand where the mistake could have been made."

"Well think about it."

"I am."

* * *

_Orn 12_

Ratchet glared at him.

"What is so difficult about being careful about what you drink?" he demanded, flushing the new CTO's systems for the fifth time in three orns. "Are you _trying_ to kill yourself? Well? Are you?"

"Not at all." Prowl responded tiredly. "But to this point I have been unable to identify how they are managing the contamination. I am personally retrieving my energon from a different communal area each time."

"Well if you don't start getting some regular fuel into you you're going to be having more problems." Ratchet huffed, shoving a cube into his hands. "Drink this. At least you'll know it's safe."

Grateful, Prowl accepted the energon and drank it steadily, trying to settle his empty tank. But he was barely halfway through when warnings began to light up his HUD.

"What the frag?" Ratchet muttered, snatching the cube back and running a quick analysis on it. "There's nothing wrong with this!"

"Then why...?" Prowl began, breaking off with a yelp as Ratchet grabbed him by the neck and pulled him to the side, tapping at an access port.

"Open up."

Obliging, Prowl felt the medic connect up and run a diagnostic, then heard him begin to swear furiously.

"Ratchet?" he asked.

He received no response.

"What have you found?" he tried again.

Ratchet growled.

"There's been nothing wrong with the energon."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we've been purging perfectly good energon from your systems."

"But I've been experiencing errors."

"Someone has tampered with your diagnostic settings. Something I'm... fixing... now." the medic grunted, optics flickering as he worked.

His attacker was the medic who had treated him, Prowl thought wonderingly. What reason could a medic have to want to harm him?

"We'll need to find out why he did it." Prowl spoke up.

"Oh, he'll be answering some questions." Ratchet said grimly. "Don't you worry about that."

* * *

_Orn 19_

Prowl looked at the pile of datapads on his desk and immediately spotted the problem. There were fourteen, divided into three neat piles; but when he had finished his previous shift there had been fifteen. One was missing.

Not bothering to check which one had been taken he crossed the hall back to the main strategy room where everyone with clearance to his office was busily working away at their assigned tasks. And in one corner he saw a datapad connected to an unassigned console.

"Who set up this station?" he demanded.

They all looked at him innocently. Unsurprised, he strode up to the console and plugged in, intent on retrieving the system log to tell him who had done it. He had only just connected up when the panel shorted out, making him yelp in rather an undignified manner and recoil, a reflexive action that had the effect of yanking the cable out and adding another dozen errors to his problems. Head aching and HUD filled with diagnostic reports he retracted his dangling cord and stared down at the now corrupted datapad. A full orn's work, lost. He still had the raw data but would have to reconstruct the algorithms.

"Dismissed." he snapped, not bothering to turn around.

There was a pause, then one of them shuffled.

"Who, sir?"

"All of you."

"Shouldn't you call a medic...?"

"Out!"

They left and he gratefully reached out to stabilise himself against the edge of the console. There was no chance of him doing any work in this state but nor was he going to display weakness to the crew by walking through the halls clutching at his helm. He was a senior officer now, he had to show some decorum and control.

Reaching out, he keyed on the console's communication system and ordered the twins to the tactical centre. Then straightened, stepped away from the console towards a chair... and collapsed.

* * *

"He didn't even try to deny it." Tripwire spat, disgusted. "He was proud of it. Disappointed that he hadn't done more damage!"

Prowl wondered tiredly just how much longer he was going to be cornered by the SIC. He was grateful to Tripwire for handling the matter and identifying the culprit, but he was less reassured by the other mech's insistence that everything was now fine. Everything was _not_ fine. Yes, one disruptive element had been removed but that did not solve the problem: none of them could be trusted.

"I require higher security restrictions on my office." he spoke up when Tripwire finally paused. "And guards."

Tripwire frowned.

"The new lock restrictions, absolutely - it's already done. But guards? Not a good idea right now. It's bad enough your staff aren't happy with your promotion, you don't need to have the whole crew seeing things've been getting out of hand. You've already got personal guards - it's pretty clear those twins are protecting them you - just keep them around more."

"I am less concerned about direct attacks on myself and more about someone tampering with my work."

"And I'm telling you there's nothing to worry about." Tripwire said firmly. "I've got tabs on all the remaining staff in case there's any more troublemakers amongst them, we've changed the locks and access permissions, and I've increased the patrols along this corridor. Anything more's over the top."

* * *

_Orn 23_

Tripwire surveyed the office, well aware of Prowl waiting in the corridor staring at him but ignoring the tactician's silent annoyance for now. This should not have happened. And yet it had. Someone had broken in to the Chief Tactician's office without tripping any of the alarms and had then smashed every terminal screen in the room. Quite apart from the problem of finding replacement parts, it would mean having to let technicians in which would then mean having to do a full security clearance before Prowl could be allowed back in to work in case tracking or bugging devices had been placed. The sheer amount of work was daunting, particularly since Prime had made it clear that very morning that he wanted a battle plan ready for discussion by the end of the decaorn.

Turning back to the doorway, he steeled himself.

"Guards?" he asked simply.

"Guards." Prowl nodded firmly.

"Right." Tripwire sighed. "Now where will you work until this is fixed?"

"The main office." Prowl responded readily. "I have dismissed the other staff permanently. Curveball is assisting in their reassignment elsewhere in the fleet where they can be monitored."

Guards, Tripwire mused as Prowl swept across the hall and into the other room, the twins moving into position outside the door. He hated agreeing to it. Guards got bored at the best of times and guarding an empty room was always an invitation for trouble. Guards could be bribed or distracted. And yet what other choice was there? Well, short term it might be okay. And with the others off the ship, maybe things would settle down.

* * *

_Orn 37_

"Again?" Tripwire blurted in surprise.

Optimus nodded.

"I have just come from the medbay. I understood you and Ratchet had identified the mech responsible for Prowl's difficulties."

"So did we."

"Well it seems that someone else is copying and I'd like it stopped. I need him working, not spending every second orn in the medbay."

"Yes sir."

Walking out of the command centre, Tripwire headed towards the medbay but came across Sideswipe along the way.

"You looking for Prowl?" the red frontliner asked.

"Yes. Prime says he's been poisoned again."

Sideswipe shrugged.

"This one's his fault."

"What do you mean?"

"Well Prowl always turns down anything anyone else gives him."

"Which makes it Prowl's fault," Tripwire agreed, "changing that policy is a foolish mistake."

"Nah, it's Prime's fault." Sideswipe huffed. "Look. He's the one who brought these commanders in with their staff. With everyone being served it wasn't like Prowl could say no, with Prime right there. Anyway, I've gotta go."

Bemused, Tripwire walked on. Prowl had ben poisoned at the welcome function for Ultra Laudit and Ultra Oculus? But Tripwire had personally assigned the staff who prepared and served the foodstuffs. Surely they couldn't have missed something there? Reaching the medbay he walked in to find the CMO cleaning up.

"What is going on?" he demanded.

"Nothing." Ratchet grumbled. " _Someone_ just can't handle his high grade."

"So it wasn't contaminated?"

"Not this time."

* * *

_Orn 51_

Things had certainly calmed down after the break-in, though whether it was due to the guards posted outside or due to the reassignment of his subordinates, Prowl neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was that things were far less stressful. That said, he now had seven completely new subordinates who were only just getting used to being on the flagship with all the sudden changes in priority and adjustments in planning, so it was not exactly stress-free.

Three of his new staff had come from other ships where they had been the lead strategist, and while they did not seem to harbour any specific resentment towards him, they were constantly trying to prove that they were the best and the others redundant. Two of the others had worked together for a long period at Ovacalix, and while they weren't antagonistic towards the others they were also unaccustomed to the constantly changing variables of being on a moving ship. The remaining two included one student from Kalisi Station whose tutors spoke highly of, and one former frontline soldier who had shown a flair for battlefield improvisation.

It would take time for them to settle in, and in the meantime he was overseeing everything personally which was satisfying in its effectiveness. He was pleased - if not surprised, after what he had learned of what Quickquadrant was doing - to see an immediate reduction of battlefield casualties on routine missions, and according to the twins the soldiers were noticing the change too.

His thoughts were disrupted by his office door opening and he looked up to see one of the guards enter, then put a cube of energon down on his desk.

"Thank you, but no. Take it away."

"Sir?"

"I'll get my own energon, thank you."

The security guard looked put out but took it away and Prowl resumed his work only to be interrupted again six breems later by the same mech.

"Sir, I don't understand why you can trust us to protect your office but not to bring you some fuel. Why would we want to hurt you? You're the one who keeps us alive out there!"

"I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately there are those who do not share it."

The guard looked frustrated, then suddenly put the cube to his mouth and drank half of it.

"There. See, it's not poisoned."

Prowl looked at him steadily for a moment, then leaned inclined his head.

"What is your name?"

"Westlight, sir."

"Very well, Westlight. I thank you for your gift. Now please return to your post."

Grinning, Westlight sauntered back out. Prowl stared at the cube for a while longer, then subspaced it. He had absolutely no intention of consuming it. Innocent as the offer almost certainly was, his attackers had been very clever so far and he would not put it past them to set someone up with some kind of filter so they were able to safely drink an unsafe mix.

* * *

_Orn 65_

Fourteen orns in a row Westlight brought him energon and drank some of it in front of him. Thirteen of those orns nothing was at all suspicious. The last time the mech had gone into convulsions in the corridor a groon later and had died before the medics could get to him.

It proved that Westlight himself had been an innocent pawn in the game, Prowl supposed, though it also verified that his caution was well warranted. Analysis of the fourteen samples revealed that only the last had actually been contaminated, and a review of the security logs showed that an ensign had handed Westlight the cube rather than him getting it fresh himself. The ensign was interrogated and admitted to pouring in an additive but said he didn't know what it was and that it had been given to him by someone else. Further review of the camera footage confirmed this and led to the identification of a supply mech who identified yet another mech.

In the end there was a chain of eleven mecha involved in this one attempt, each only working to a limited set of orders and unaware of most of the others. The initiator was a maintenance worker who killed himself before the security teams could find him, but left a suicide note signed off _All hail Lord Megatron!_

"We'll probably never be sure we've gotten them all." Tripwire conceded as he and Prowl reviewed the data. "But this should make them back off."

"The best option is continued vigilance." Prowl agreed.

If for no other reason than it might save other innocents from being used the way Westlight had.

* * *

_Much later_

"Did you realise," Tripwire slurred, "that it's been nearly a full decade since anyone tried to poison you?"

"Thus you feel the need to make the attempt yourself?" Prowl asked dubiously, frowning at the cube of high grade the SIC had thrust into his hand when he arrived at the conference room.

"Prowl doesn't overcharge, Trip, you know that." Broadcast chided him, taking the high grade and swapping it for a mid grade.

"This'd be a great time to start." Curveball pointed out, snatching the unwanted cube from Broadcast's grip and pouring the contents into his own lurid-coloured mix.

"Today's victory was hard earned but not outstanding in any way."

"Now that's where you're wrong." Tripwire insisted, poking him in the chest. "Right, Cast?"

"It was the first planned action in your whole sad history where there wasn't some sign of a leak." Curveball broke in before the communications mech could respond. "The _first_. It wasn't just that we won today, it's that they didn't have a clue we were coming!"

"When I think of all the time Quad and I spent trying to find the leak and it was him all along." Broadcast scowled.

"Don't take it personally." Tripwire advised. "None of us picked it."

"'Cept for Prowl." Curveball grinned.

"You knew first." Prowl reminded him. "If I had realised how he would react I would have been less bold in my actions."

"Nah, I don't believe it." Curveball argued. "You're always bold."

"Only when it is advisable." Prowl corrected him. "Now I'll leave you to your inebriations. Enjoy your victory party."

He ignored their protests and walked out, but after closing the door behind himself he paused and reviewed the exchange. He was comfortable amongst these mechs; he was valued for his work and he enjoyed it, and his contribution was both worthwhile and actively sought. It was all he had ever wanted. Well worth the struggle getting here.

Smiling, his sensor panels set high and proud, he strode off towards the command centre. This was where he belonged and where he would stay, and it would take more than a bit of energon tampering to change that.

* * *

The end.


End file.
